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free love poem

gerade als meine Finger auf diesen Schlüsseln
ich bin vom Sein bitter und träge vom Sein klug träge
einige windigere Tage
wenn Nacht entlang den Straßen der Stadt treibt
Töchter der Zeit
ich wundere manchmal, mich wenn es wirklich zutreffend ist
irgendwo las ich eine merkwürdige, alte, rostige Geschichte
die Schwärzung
das Licht zurückgenommen
seien Sie nicht falsch

 



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